While heading to the grocery store I mentioned to Miss Kitty that I thought it was very hot in the car.
She nodded wisely and said conspiratorially: It's That Time, isn't it?
Um, What time, Miss Kitty?
You know, that time. Time for the change.
Yes, perhaps, I replied.
Well, we won't talk about it, said she. My mother never talked about it.
Okay, I said, Mum's the word.
In her repetitive fashion, Miss Kitty continued:
No, Mother never talked about the change.
She never talked about it when she died, either.
For which I am eternally grateful! Because even at Eastertime when such things have been known to happen, I do not want a dead woman rising from the grave and talking to me about menopause.